This week, the name Mangione became linked to the killing of health-insurance executive Brian Thompson in New York City, following the charging of 26-year-old Luigi Mangione with his murder. However, for many decades, the surname has signified something quite different: affluence, influence, distinction, and charitable giving – particularly within Baltimore’s Italian community. According to Giovanna Aquia Blatterman, now 77, the Mangiones are considered one of, if not the, “most respected” Italian families in the region. Ms. Aquia Blatterman, who arrived in the U.S. from Sicily in 1953, stated that she has known three generations of the family. She described the family as “generous” and “self-made,” while Luigi, whom she briefly encountered approximately eight years ago, seemed intelligent, approachable, and attractive – “as you can tell.” Reflecting on recent events, she pondered, “Something has occurred with him,” adding, “He’s two different people.” She also maintained his innocence until proven guilty, stating, “This is one of the greatest honours of being an American citizen.” Little Italy, a collection of streets in downtown Baltimore where Ms. Blatterman operates one of the numerous Italian restaurants, has served as a haven for Italian immigrants since their arrival in the 1800s and 1900s. An Italian tri-colour flag continues to be prominently displayed, and even fire hydrants are painted green, white, and red. Nicholas Mangione Sr. was born there in 1925, beginning his life in a financially struggling immigrant household. For his initial eight years, he resided in a single-room apartment with an outdoor privy toilet, as reported by the Baltimore Sun. During World War Two, he served in the Navy in the South Pacific before returning to his Maryland residence, where he established various businesses and, according to local media, developed a contentious—even aggressive—reputation concerning his commercial dealings. In a 1995 article about him titled ‘Fiery builder has softer side,’ Mr. Mangione recounted his purchase of the Turf Valley resort, situated west of Baltimore, in 1978. “People thought I needed money from the mafia to buy this place. They asked me what family I belonged to. I told them, ‘I belong to the Mangione family. The Mangione family of Baltimore County.'” In 1988, Turf Valley was involved in a racism controversy when the then-manager, Mangione Sr.’s now deceased nephew, was recorded using a racial slur. This incident garnered local news coverage. Nevertheless, within Baltimore’s close-knit Italian community, loyalty persists for Nick Mangione and his memory. Mary Ann Campanella, an 83-year-old lifelong resident of Little Italy, referred to him as an “excellent man.” She remarked, “If you went to him (for help),” and “he looked at you – you got it. He helped everyone.” The family patriarch, who had relocated his growing family to the suburbs long ago, passed away in 2008, leaving behind 10 children and 37 grandchildren, including Luigi Mangione. Upon his arrest, police indicate that Luigi Mangione possessed a handwritten document outlining his alleged “ill will” toward corporate elites, which U.S. media have reported included the phrase “these parasites had it coming.” In contrast to his grandfather, Luigi was born into a privileged environment, attending an all-boys private school in a northern Baltimore suburb, where annual fees can reach $37,690. From a rain-soaked roadside in Baltimore, the expansive campus of the Gilman School is visible, featuring its central element: a double-fronted, 1920s red-brick hall, behind which lie extensive sporting grounds. One family associate drew a comparison between it and Eton, the English boys’ school attended by aristocratic families and members of the Royal Family. Many have questioned how this 26-year-old transitioned from a promising young graduate to an alleged fugitive, apprehended at a McDonald’s in Pennsylvania. The Mangiones have numerous cousins, aunts, and uncles who have spread far beyond Little Italy. However, the family has largely maintained silence since Mr. Mangione’s arrest, issuing only a brief statement through Republican state lawmaker and cousin Nino Mangione, expressing that they are “shocked and devastated.” Requests for interviews with family members were met either with no reply or a firm but polite “No comment.” One individual simply stated, “Everything that needs to be said has been.” Dylan Segelbaum, a reporter for the local news website the Baltimore Banner, noted that as Luigi Mangione matured, his family owned various businesses, from country clubs and golf courses to assisted living facilities. He affirmed, “The Mangione family is prominent in the Baltimore area.” The family name is literally inscribed in Baltimore. A plaque at the entrance to the Family Center at the Greater Baltimore Medical Center states: “Donated by Nicholas and Mary Mangione.” “The family’s very philanthropic,” Mr. Segelbaum commented, observing that the family contributed over $1 million to the hospital. Nonetheless, Ms. Blatterman asserts that the Mangiones have remained “relatable” and do not “showboat.” Formerly a salon stylist, Ms. Blatterman mentioned that she cut the hair of Luigi Mangione’s grandmother, Mary Mangione, whom she refers to as “Miss Mary,” in the early 1970s. Furthermore, before the Covid pandemic, she stated that she played bocce (an Italian bowling game) with members of the Mangione family, including Luigi Mangione’s parents, Louis and Kathleen Mangione. She added, “Kathy has a travel agency. She does trips to Italy.” While expressing sympathy for the family of Mr. Thompson, 50, the health executive fatally shot on December 4, Ms. Blatterman also conveyed her thoughts for the Mangiones. “I can’t imagine what the family’s going through. I’m sorry about Mr. Thompson, they’re going through hell, too – but so is this family going through hell.”

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